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Short samurai story


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This is just a cool little story I made up when I was bored and finished thinking abuot the movie the last samurai. Enjoy :)Criticism is welcome, but I probably won't change anything since it's just a short story I made for fun.

The Fallen Heart of the Red Warrior


        As the wind poured in between them along the pink and white flowery meadow, the two warriors stopped their pace towards each other. With their determined facial expressions, it seemed as if their days of tiring journey towards each other were like the pleasant walks they took before with their concubines through the morning praire. The cold mountains of the North proved to reveal hard, but successful trails for the red warrior. The dry desert sands of the East had done little to delay the green warrior. All of the physical anguish behind them in their weathered years of training was to ready them for this encounter. They were representatives of dueling clans, each masters of their own technique of fighting, and both intended on leaving the other lying still on the ground.

        Like two elder dragons clashing in the high skies with noises and light unseen to man before, the two warriors rushed at each other with blood in their eyes and fury in their movement. They knew one would walk out of this meadow alive, or not at all. Flurries of white leaves and pink petals blew behind their quick feet as they joined swords - heavy weapons that also picked up the leaves and petals around them when slashed towards each other. A whirlwind of debri flew around the majestic dragons of red and green. Each move and counter-move had a meaning, and a purpose, that were understood the most by these two warriors. The pace quickened with each second with the whirlwind becoming a blur of pink and white around them. Sword clashed with sword, and armor banged against armor. A passing villager would have thought it to be an act with every movement so fluidly flowing into each other. The perfect attack was matched with the perfect defense each time. Their expert fighting was not a question.

        For days, the fight continued on. The whirlwind remained, but the petals have passed on and the leaves have scattered too far. The noises of the battle scampered away any animals that were in range to hear, and there were only the two remaining in the torn meadow. Each move was made with new vigor and fury, coming out of the thin crisp air. Storytellers in the distant future will dress the scenery up to undisturbed flora and sparkling armor that was left unscratched. The reality was more of what to expect from days of fighting, with dirty and broken armor, trampled bushes, and crushed flowers. The long jet black hair of each warrior flew wildly around their heads, sometimes blocking the path of their fierce, dark eyes towards each other. Grunts were exchanged, with each warrior making it apparent that they were becoming more careless with their technique.

        The fatigue from days of fighting was now settling in, and the fury of the red warrior was dying down to merely fighting for his life. For the red warrior, there was no more honor to uphold, no clan to protect anymore, and no superiority to prove now. None of this mattered anymore to him. If he was to leave this alive, he would go back to his clan a changed person. Life would become more precious, and the act of killing more barbaric. More injust. The renowned appreciation of life was seen in his eyes, and in the way he attacked the green warrior. Growing more defensive, their attacks became less aggressive. Their tiredness was the cause of this change of tactic. The whirlwind died down now, with their hair jumping back and forth every minute or so with each dodge of attack. Exchanged one after the other, the attacks were for more of a final result to end this grueling fight and stop their pain. They grew closer to wishing for death to just end it all.

        Then, when it came to his turn, the red warrior stood still and looked at his match. His eyes told stories of tiredness, and he knew his enemy felt the same. He cried out "Why must we continue this pointless fighting?" Without a response, the green warrior charged him and the fight continued. Not for long did they fight, however, until both collapsed five feet from each other, too tired to grunt at the pain of their wounds being pounded by the hard meadow ground.

        The red warrior looked up at the sky and could imagine his ancestors looking down upon him. He wondered if he still held his honor to them. He closed his eyes and cried out "I cannot fight anymore!" With the ring of his last word still in the air, the red warrior gasped and suddenly opened his eyes wider than any mortal man could have. The look of the green warrior burying his splintered jade sword into a crack in the red armor burned into the red warrior's eyes even through death. The only words spoken by the green warrior were what followed, "We fight for many honorable reasons. Different reasons are in the heart of every Warrior. You had forgotten what is in yours, and for that you had to die."

      The green champion put his foot on the limp corpse and pulled his sword out of the warm body with a soft grunt. He proceeded to wipe the new blood off with his hand, revealing old stains of red beneath. Another wave of fatigue flooded his entire body, and forced him to collapse once more in a crumpled position near the body, which had its eyes still open. He felt a warm substance running down his right side, and looking down he realized that he had been deeply wounded under his right arm without knowing it. It didn't matter to him now, and he was too exhausted to worry about treating himself. The only thing on his mind then was to escape into the dark abyss of sleep. Although, there was something different about this time; the drifting soul seemed to be taking a different path. It disturbed him to his core, but its course had already begun. Going limp with a satisfied sigh, he fell back and went to sleep to the faint noise of soft winds blowing across the torn meadow.

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My interest in reading on the story was really kept burning throughout the story. Good one, Acriku! To me, there was a bit too much focus on their feelings rather than the fighting, and a small amount of tweaking can balance it out to make an even better story. Keep up the good work, Acriku!

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